The Son of Gloin
by Nieriel Raina
Summary: Gloin had known it was not a good idea to let Gimli go on the Quest, but never had he imagined it would come to this. A tale of the Fellowship and of the forming of the friendship between Legolas and Gimli...with a slight twist. AU 1st Place August ALEC
1. Prologue

**1st Place August 2009 A Long Expected Contest**

**Author's Note: **Some parts of this story may seem very familiar. That is because some of the dialogue is taken directly from Fellowship of the Ring as well as some description of events though I have endeavored to put the latter in my own words. Dialogue quoted directly has been placed between asterisks and belongs to JRR Tolkien and not myself. The rest is completely my fault.

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"Legolas shall be for the Elves, and Gimli son of Glóin for the Dwarves."

~ Elrond, _The Ring Goes South_, The Fellowship of the Ring

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**The Son of Glóin**

**by Nieriel Raina  
**

**Prologue**

"I am not so sure this is a good idea," Glóin muttered and watched Gimli's head snap up. Piercing brown eyes met his own.

"Why not?" Gimli asked. Those eyes were usually soft, so like those of his deceased wife, but now they cut through him as an axe blade through an orc.

Glóin sighed. His brows furrowed as he studied his offspring. "You know why."

Gimli shrugged off his concern and continued to pack. "No one will notice. No one ever _**has**_ noticed."

Glóin sighed once more and tucked his thumbs into his gold belt. His Gimli could be very stubborn. "Tharkûn knows."

The wizard had known from the first time he set eyes on Gimli many years ago, though he had said nothing. But Glóin had not missed the look of surprise on Gandalf's face when Elrond had announced those who would accompany Frodo. The wizard had turned and given him such a look that Glóin had nearly stepped forward to forbid Gimli's going.

The auburn head snapped back up, and those eyes burned into Glóin again, regarding him with fire. "And with Tharkûn along, you have nothing to fear for me! Besides," Gimli stuffed a small article into the bottom of the pack. "I can take care of myself. Did you not raise me to do so?"

Glóin tightened his hands into fists, but could not deny the veiled accusation. He had indeed raised Gimli to be the best of sons. Gimli was self sufficient and trained in all the arts proper to a man: the art of war as well as stone and metal craft. Yet Glóin could not stop himself from showing the protective nature of a father. He had managed to raise more than a few eyebrows when he had forbidden Gimli from joining him on the Quest to the Lonely Mountain on grounds that his son had been too young for such a journey. Such an unusual decree had nearly exposed their secret to their whole clan. After that he had had to begin allowing Gimli the freedom due a grown son, and that was why he had allowed Gimli to accompany him here to Rivendell.

_But this quest to Mordor with the Ringbearer?_ Glóin swallowed hard. How could he logically deny Gimli the honor of representing their race? Gimli was in the prime of life for a dwarf and held the rank such a position required. To forbid it would be to acknowledge his deception. Gimli was correct. His child had always been more interested in weaponry and was the best ax wielder Glóin had seen in many a year. _HA!_ _Why, Gimli could easily best even that lanky young son of the Elvenking!_

Glóin's shoulders sagged as he gave up the fight. He had done his job too well. Gimli was the best son a father could hope for. It was too late to regret, too late to wish he had instead raised a daughter. "You will take all precautions to prevent the others from learning the truth." The look he received caused a chill to run down his spine.

"Well, father, it would not do to have that princeling catching me with my pants around my ankles, now would it?" Gimli snorted, those brown eyes now crinkling in laughter. "Though I dare say, I shall have much amusement at catching every one of those males in a similar situation!"

"Gimli!" Horror shot through him as he once again had to face that his child was no innocent. There was little Gimli had not seen or heard, though to date, he — no, Gloin had to be honest with himself for once — _she_ had managed to keep her gender a secret.

"I jest, father."

Glóin grunted and left Gimli to her packing. He feared he would greatly regret allowing her to go, but could see no way of denying it, not without losing the respect of all his kin and the King Under the Mountain's as well. Regardless, he had lost his daughter the day she had been born, and not for the first time, Glóin regretted it.

**To Be Continued…

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**Tharkún **– The name the Dwarves gave to Gandalf.

**Author's Note: **Now you know the AU element to this story. ;) It was written for the August 2009 A Long Expected Contest 'But You're a GIRL!' theme, in which those competing were to take a character that Tolkien wrote as a male and change them to female and then speculate on how that might change the story. This is something I have been actually wanting to do for some time with these two characters. I think it adds a certain tension and spark to an already unusual tale.


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. Comments are always appreciated. :)  
**

**Author's Note: **Dialogue between asterisks is taken directly from The Fellowship of the Ring by JRR Tolkien.**

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**Chapter One**

With much excitement, Gimli hefted her pack and set out with her eight companions. While the seriousness of their mission weighed heavily on them all, for the first time she was being shown the honor due to her as the son of Glóin! Her lips twitched upwards with her exhilaration at finally getting her due. Long had she waited for this chance, and she gloried in the freedom she now had over others of her gender. If not for the unfortunate death of her mother during childbirth and her father's refusal to follow custom, Gimli would have been raised by her aunt and grandmother.

She marched along, listening to the hobbits chat quietly between themselves and watching the Men with interest. She had never encountered Men such as these before – this Boromir of Gondor and Aragorn Arathorn's son. Strange they were, very tall and very serious in demeanor…and nothing like the flighty creature walking at the back of their company, humming to himself or softly singing.

Gimli snorted and turned her eyes back to the front. The way was difficult and one needed to watch where one walked; still, the elf's presence amused her. He had said nothing to her in the two month stay in Rivendell. Except for the outburst between her father and Legolas during the Council, she had hardly seen the elf speak to any, even the other elves in Rivendell. He was a strange creature, even for an elf of Mirkwood, and she had met several. He often just sat, usually somewhere up high, and either sang to himself, worked at increasing his cache of arrows, or simply drew up a knee to his chest and watched the various goings on in the hidden valley.

What fascinated him so about the various races in Rivendell that he had sat at the fringes and merely observed, never really a part of the goings on but never far from it either? Legolas had been introduced as Thranduil's son, a prince of Mirkwood! Frivolous creatures, full of whimsy, they enjoyed feasting and dancing and making merry under the stars. Those she had met in her travels with Glóin had been outspoken, merry and playful. But this one – she glanced back at him – he kept to himself and was quiet. Perhaps he was shy?

The elf's gaze turned towards her and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Gimli found her gaze captured by stunning silver eyes that shone like the stars themselves. By Mahal! She had never seen such eyes! How had she not noticed them before? Then to her horror, he winked, and then his gaze flitted away, leaving her feeling enraged, confused and bereft all at once.

Gimli determined then and there that the elf was dangerous, and she resolved to keep him at a distance. Yet…she could not stop herself from taking small peeks in his direction, and she cursed herself for being a fool. She had seen his smirks; the elf was laughing at her!

—

Gimli had anticipated several difficulties while she had prepared for the journey. Being the only female in a company of nine, and her gender unbeknownst to the others at that, created other…complications. It was nothing she had not dealt with before among her own kind, though some things proved easier among the Dwarves due to certain cultural distinctions.

Relieving oneself, for instance, was a very private affair for a dwarf. Having had little exposure to other races, at least in regards to such matters as that, she was unprepared when the Man of Gondor simply stopped by a tree and began fiddling with his trousers. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was doing, and she stared in absolute horror.

"What do you think you are doing?" she rumbled at the man, staring in horror at the wet spot growing larger at the base of the tree.

Boromir's brows rose as he looked over his shoulder at her. "I would think that was obvious, my good dwarf, or do dwarves not need to relieve themselves?"

It was Gandalf who answered. "Dwarves are very private about such things, Boromir. Even among their own gender." The wizard had looked down at her with knowing eyes. "It is considered an insult to expose oneself to another or to relieve oneself in the presence of others." He glanced around at the rest of the group, who all stared at Gimli with varied expressions of amusement or curiosity.

Her face burned.

"We are a company of mixed races and cultures. We must work to respect our differences."

There were nods of agreement from Boromir and Aragorn, and to Gimli's relief, smiles of understanding from Frodo and Sam. Merry still looked a bit thunderstruck, while Pippin… Gimli feared Pippin was about to make some embarrassing statement. She was not disappointed.

"How then do they…er…" Pippin's voice trailed off as his cheeks turned pink. "Never mind..."

She stared at the hobbit, thinking he had surely not meant what she thought he had meant, when a light voice behind her merrily added, "Are Dwarves not known to live in dark holes? Perhaps they have no need for light in order to—"

"Legolas!" Gandalf's voice boomed over the company, and the elf's bright laughter followed. Gimli bristled with anger and indignation at the elf's insinuations. Shy? No, he was a churlish, dog-hearted miscreant!

Gimli turned and glared at him. "Why you pointy-eared, foul-mouthed—"

"Gimli." Gandalf's tone was a warning. "That is enough." Gimli snapped her mouth closed, but continued to glare at the elf. Gandalf continued, "As I was saying, with the differences in culture among our company, we must _**work**_ to show each other respect."

The wizard's eyes turned to hold the elf with a pointed look. "Bathing, for instance…" Gimli's eyes widened as the elf's pale cheeks bloomed with two blotches of color. "Not all races believe in communal bathing. In this, elves and dwarves are much alike. When the opportunity arises, privacy must be respected." Gandalf's eyes moved over each of them, drawing agreement from all. "Now, we have lingered here long enough. Let us away, for we have many more leagues to travel before the sun rises."

Seething, Gimli joined the line and marched along, but after a short time, she realized most of her complications had been resolved during their short break. She had no need to explain anything. Tharkûn had indeed done his part to preserve her identity.

—

For a fortnight, they traveled. And during that time, Gimli found herself constantly bristling. The elf seemed to be doing his best to irritate her with his words. Always his eyes sparkled with mischief as he made some statement or other about the dwarves. It was rather unsettling, especially when she realized he never once made such comments about any of the others in their company.

The elf kept his distance from the others, always walking in the back, often just behind Gimli, though why, she was at a loss to understand. At mealtimes, he took his food and sought some high ground or tree in which to partake of it. When they rested, he often sat alone. He watched their surroundings and listened intently to the tales they told to pass the time, but rarely did he join in them, except to make some comment that left Gimli incensed and muttering under her breath.

What need drove him to spark her ire, she did not understand, and so she withdrew from him more, walking closer to the hobbits. At least she attempted to put distance between them; to her dismay, the elf followed her, and Gimli began to walk with one hand resting on the haft of her axe, her eyes boring into him and fingers twitching to teach him some manners.

By the time they reached Hollin, Gimli had given up on trying to keep the elf away. His comments continued, always with merrily dancing eyes and she found to her great discomfort that she enjoyed the teasing on some level. Curse him for being so fair! Beauty such as his should not be paired with such a daring personality. Finding it impossible to hold him at a distance — the blasted elf seemed always at her heels! — she simply ignored him, or attempted to do so. The dratted elf was hard to ignore.

She found it easier to distract herself once she laid eyes upon the mountain peaks in the distance. Oh, how she had longed to see them again! It had been many years since that first and only glimpse she had gotten of them while traveling from the Blue Mountains to the Lonely Mountain with her father and their kin. To be so close and to know they might get closer still stirred her with excitement. Her heart yearned to see Khazad-dum, the ancient home of her ancestors. It was possible Balin might yet dwell there, and they might find temporary refuge and comfort with him.

Instead, Gandalf chose to take the Redhorn Pass. While Gimli felt some disappointment at not going through the mines, her heart trembled at the thought of seeing the waters of Kheled-zâram – the Mirrormere. And she marveled at the elf's ramblings about the Elves of Hollin. *_"Only I hear the stones lament them…"* _he had said. Did Elves truly hear the stones as the Dwarves did? Gimli felt a certain amount of respect for him at saying this…right up until he grinned at her and winked. Blasted elf!

The grueling walk up Caradhras quickly stole what joy she had found in the thought of seeing Kheled-zâram. She should have been enjoying at least the sight of the mountains as they pushed on towards the pass, but her eyes continually strayed to where the elf jaunted easily up the incline. Not only was the elf fair to look upon, the fey creature could walk atop the snow! No trudging for him. Her temper, sparked by this slight against nature, grew fouler along with the weather. Angry and cold, she grumbled and muttered under her breath, wishing they could leave the cruel Caradhras far behind.

The storm built the further they walked, until they were finally forced to stop. Gandalf, Aragorn and Boromir debated what they should do next, but Gimli remained silent, stomping her feet in an effort to warm herself and eyeing the hobbits and their bootless feet. The Man of Gondor spoke truly. The hobbits would not fare well if they continued.

Gandalf allowed a fire, and Gimli stepped forward to light one, but the elf beat her to it. She watched with a smug smile on her face as he tried and failed several times to ignite the wet wood. Finally, he stood and with chagrin admitted, "It is no use. The wood will not light."

"Get out of the way," she grumbled, pushing past him. She dropped to her knees and pulled out her tinder box fully prepared to prove the superiority of the Dwarves. Many minutes later she had to concede the wood was too wet for elf _**or **_dwarf to light. She frowned at the kindling that refused to ignite for her just as it had for the elf, then dropped her flint back into her tinderbox and stood. The failing had not been the fault of either of them but that of the weather.

The chill wind howled about them, driving snow deep into her beard and stinging her eyes and face. She stepped back, frowning and waiting for some cutting remark from the elf, but none came. Gandalf relented and used his staff to make a small blaze. Gimli huddled beside the hobbits next to the weak fire and glared out at the swirling snow, wondering what other challenges they might face on this Quest. To date, Caradhras was the worst of it, but she feared there was much worse to come.

When, to her surprise, the elf came over and sat beside her, she scooted away and up against the cliff wall. To her dismay, he followed and sat so close his leg brushed against hers. She inched away until he was no longer touching her and glared at him.

"It is chill," he said, though he did not look the least bit cold. He was simply making an observation.

"Of course it is chill, you fool elf!" she snapped. "Did you expect the warmth of the sun in all this swirling snow and ice?" His lips twitched, and she harrumphed and turned her head away but did not move. His body heat spread to her from his closeness, and though she grumbled, she let it warm her.

Come morning, the path could no longer be seen and the clouds overhead were still heavy with snow. Gimli looked up at the mountain and shook her head. "Caradhras has not forgiven us," she said. *"He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better."*

But that was easier said than done. The path they had traveled up the mountain had drifted closed and retreat seemed all but impossible. They would have to find some way to break through the drifts that lay deeper than the hobbits' heads in some places. To Gimli's dismay the elf easily climbed up the drifts and looked down at them.

*"If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,"* he said with a slight smile. The blasted elf did not even look cold! Here they were stuck on a mountainside with the threat of more snow dumping on them at any moment and yet there he pranced, merry as could be.

To Gimli's satisfaction, Gandalf answered as grumpily as she felt. *"If Elves could fly over the mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us! But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow."*

The two Men decided they would dig a path through the drifts, and Gimli settled back against the wall while they began shoveling the snow with their hands. She would be of little use in such an endeavor. Dwarves were not made for pushing through snow; the drifts came to even over her head in some places. She watched them a moment, then a light voice drew her attention.

*"The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow — an elf!"* Legolas sprang forward after the Men, calling over his shoulder to the wizard who glared at him. *"Farewell! I go to find the Sun!"* He darted across the drifts as if running over firm ground, passed the men with a merry wave and disappeared around a bend.

"Elves are strange, aren't they?" Pippin asked, settling down beside Gimli. "I mean, I'd never before met an elf until we left the Shire, and since then, I've met many, and they are all a bit odd in their own way." The hobbit tugged his cloak more firmly around him. "But Legolas…well, he seems a bit odder than the rest. Do you think they are all like that in Mirkwood?"

"Bah!" Gimli replied, shaking her head. "Wood-elves are indeed flighty, but that one is the worst I've met. Elves are silly creatures!"

For all her outward gruffness, Gimli wrestled within herself between offense and amusement at the elf's antics. Gandalf still glared in the direction Legolas had gone, and Gimli snorted and shook her head. After the hobbits, Legolas probably roused the wizard's ire more than any of them. If not for being a target herself of the elf's flighty moods, she might find it more amusing. Dratted creature! Here she sat, freezing her arse off on a mountain determined to bury them in snow, and she could not stop her thoughts from straying to a flighty elf, who pranced about on top of the snowfall as if he were running and playing in a meadow of new grass!

By the time the elf and Men returned with the news the snow drifts only extended a short distance, Gimli was in a foul mood and angry with her lack of control over her thoughts. What was wrong with her? She should feel nothing for him, yet… She shook her head and refused to acknowledge the strange stirrings in her heart. They were unnatural and could prove to expose her if she entertained them. Better to let the anger cover any hint of the growing fondness she felt.

As they began their descent, she raised her fist and shook it at the mountain. *"Enough, enough! We are departing as quickly as we may!"*

The elf's laughter sounded above her. From her spot down in the trench which Aragorn and Boromir had dug, Gimli hid a smile, then hardened her features and threw up an insult.

The flight from Caradhras brought more challenges. There were Saruman's crebain to dodge and again they had to decide which path to tread. When Khazad-dum was mentioned, Gimli felt her heart leap. She longed to go that route, but remained silent as the others debated amongst themselves. Even if they chose to walk that path, there would be many obstacles to overcome, not the least of which would be finding the closed doors – the entrance through Khazad-dum.

When Gandalf defended making the trek, going so far as to suggest that there was still a chance that Dwarves dwelt in their ancient home, Gimli finally added her voice to the debate. *"I will tread the path with you, Gandalf!"* she said. *"I will go and look on the halls of Durin, whatever may wait there — if you can find the doors that are shut."*

*"Good, Gimli!" said Gandalf. "You encourage me. We will seek the hidden doors together. And we will come through. In the ruins of the Dwarves, a dwarf's head will be less easy to bewilder than Elves or Men or Hobbits. Yet it will not be the first time that I have been to Moria. I sought there long for Thráin son of Thrór after he was lost. I passed through, and I came out again alive!"*

She smiled at Gandalf's praise, even as the others spoke against the path through Moria. Yet despite theirmisgivings, she eagerly agreed to follow the wizard there and excitement burned through her inner being. She might shortly be reunited with her cousin Balin. How she had missed him! She refused to entertain any thoughts of finding anything other than the best. Nothing could dampen her joy now, she thought, even as Boromir claimed he would only go if all agreed.

*"I do not wish to go to Moria," said Legolas.* For once his eyes did not sparkle, nor did he tease, wink or smile. He looked troubled, and Gimli found a great part of her enthusiasm dissipated with his words.

Then the wolves began to howl.

**To Be Continued…**


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed to date. Sorry for the delay.

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**Chapter Two**

Night was upon them. The howls grew nearer, and the Company sought the higher ground of the small hill under which they had earlier sought shelter. A fire now burned inside a broken ring of boulders they had found amid the knot of gnarled trees at the crest. The hobbits hovered near the flames, casting fearful glances into the darkness. With every howl, Pippin shivered, and Sam spent much time attempting to calm the pony. Bill tossed his head, showing the whites of his eyes before settling down as the howls faded.

Gimli kept her back to the fire as Gandalf set the watch, casting her gaze outwards, searching for the elusive wargs that certainly haunted their steps. Aragorn and Legolas took up posts on opposite sides of the fire for the first watch. Gimli and Boromir would take the second, while Gandalf and Pippin would take the third. Frodo, Sam and Merry would have the last watch of the night, and Gimli nodded her approval at the decision. It was unlikely Frodo would need to actually take a turn at the watch, and all could see the Ringbearer needed rest more than any of them, though sleep would elude them all, she feared.

Gimli settled beside the fire to get what rest she could. Nearby, the pony snorted, shifting nervously and trembling as the howls drew closer and then faded back. From time to time, she could see shining eyes just beyond the circle of stones, and she rested her hand upon her axe waiting. The attack would come soon.

The wargs were upon them with no warning. Gimli surged to her feet at a howl from so close by that her beard bristled. The dark shape of a large wolf stood in a gap in the circle of stones, its red eyes glinting in the firelight as it snarled. She drew her axe, preparing for the lunge that would surely come.

Instead Gandalf surged to his feet and strode towards the warg, raising his staff. *"Listen Hound of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring."* Never had Gimli heard such a ring of authority in the wizard's voice.

The wolf took no heed of the words. It snarled and leapt toward the hobbits. Gimli moved to push them back, but before she took one step, the sharp twang of a bow sounded from beside her, and a moment later the wolf fell to the ground, an elvish arrow shot through its throat.

Gimli glanced with astonishment to where the elf stood. His skill was impressive! She took in a sharp breath as her eyes beheld him now. The playful and teasing elf from Caradhras had disappeared, and in his place now stood a fierce and fey warrior. Legolas had another arrow already nocked to the string and his bow drawn. His eyes surveyed the darkness beyond the firelight, and Gimli thought any creature foolish enough to move would find themselves pierced as well.

She turned her own eyes to searching the darkness beyond the circle, knowing hers and Legolas's eyes were best suited to seeing through the blackness of night. Aragorn and Gandalf strode forward, swords drawn, but the howls had faded away.

The wolves were gone—at least for the present.

—

Dawn neared, the moon setting low in the sky when the next attack came. No warning was given as the wargs charged in from every side. Gimli scrambled to her feet with the others, axe at the ready.

*"Fling fuel on the fire!" Gandalf called to the hobbits. "Draw your blades and stand back to back!"*

The fire blazed up, and Gimli hefted her axe, knowing this time her blade would bite into flesh. She felt someone move to cover her from behind, and the smell of summer and beech trees reached her nostrils. Immediately she knew who stood at her back, and she set her legs with a lethal smile and swung her axe with confidence. Legolas's bow sang behind her as her axe hewed through dark fur and bone. They proved a formidable pair in a fight.

What happened next, Gimli did not know for certain. One minute she had been absorbed in the fight, and the next light bright as a flash of lightning erupted as a voice like thunder roared. Her axe blade glittered in the flare of light and then the trees began to burn. Ash and sparks rained down on them as the smoke wafted over their company. The hobbits cried out, then all that could be heard was the crackle of the flames.

Gimli was uncertain when her eyes had slipped closed. She felt stunned, as if she had taken a heavy blow to the head. Blinking tears from her eyes from the heavy smoke that lay over them, she noticed the fire now burned down, and not a trace of their foes could be seen.

Boromir and Aragorn strode forth, swords drawn, searching for the bodies of those wolves that had fallen in the fight, but they found no trace of them. Gimli turned her gaze upon Gandalf who stood tall and forbidding in the night with his sword drawn, his staff raised and his eyes piercing and nearly glowing with an inner fire. A wizard indeed!

Sam's voice could be heard from where he huddled next to Pippin in the center of the ring. *"What did I tell you, Mr. Pippin? Wolves won't get him. That was an eye-opener, and no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off my head!"*

That was when Gimli noticed the smell of singed hair. Alarmed, she reached up to feel her own head, only to stop when a snort reached her ears. She turned and glared at the elf who watched with amused eyes. "Though it glows red like the fire, it has managed not to be consumed, Master Dwarf." His lips twitched as she narrowed her gaze at him but found she could not summon any of her typical disgust. Instead she wanted to smile, for they had won their first battle as a company!

Unwilling to give him that satisfaction, however, she settled for helping to collect his arrows. They appeared to be untouched by the flame or damaged from their flight—all except one. The toe of her boot hit the single metal point, all that remained of the arrow that had pierced the first wolf. Stooping, she picked it up and turned it in her fingers, then taken by some strange compulsion, she slipped it into her pocket. She dared not question why she had done so, but returned the handful she had to the elf.

He smiled, and to her disgruntlement, winked before placing them in his quiver. Gimli turned away sharply, the haft of her axe conveniently smacking him on the backside. The elf started and glanced around with both surprise and curiosity. Gimli hid a grin, "My apologies, Master Elf," she murmured, moving to join the others.

—

They set out in search of the doors of Khazad-dum as soon as the full light of morning had come and they had eaten a quick meal. Gimli felt a great eagerness to see for herself the Halls of Durin and to discover what had prevented word from Balin in all the years since last they had heard from him. She walked towards the front, often at Gandalf's side during march. Her desire to reach Khazad-dum drove her on, and she even pressed ahead from time to time.

The sun was reaching its zenith when she called back to the others and pointed to the right towards a deep, narrow channel. Gandalf confirmed the near-dry streambed had indeed once held the rushing waters of the Gate-stream, and her excitement grew. The walk from there was long and wearisome, and the hobbits limped as the day progressed. Even Aragorn and Boromir looked relieved during their short breaks, and Gandalf leaned on his staff, his brow furrowed as his eyes searched out their route.

Only Gimli and the elf seemed to be unaffected by the long walk. Her growing excitement at reaching the ancient home of her people kept her marching along, proving that Dwarves were more resilient and less easily tired than many other races. She glanced back at the elf, and felt a slight dismay at what she found. Legolas too walked with ease, though how he managed it in those light shoes, Gimli could not fathom. Flimsy, silly things made of only a soft deer hide. He would do better in a sturdy pair of dwarven-made boots. Why, he could even have tiny green leaves tooled into the leather to match the ones embroidered on his tunic!

She frowned when the elf briefly met her eyes, then glanced away without any of the typical smiles, jests or winks. He had been quiet and morose since they had begun the day's trek. It was as if some weight disturbed him, though Gimli could not think what that might be. What business was it of hers if the elf was troubled over some petty grievance? He was probably sulking for her thumping him with the haft of her axe. Her thoughts (she refused to acknowledge it as concern) turned from the elf back to their journey.

It was near to sunset when Gimli, Gandalf and Frodo climbed the stone stairs and looked down at a still black expanse of water and beyond it vast cliffs jutted up with no fissure or crack in the forbidding stone. Gimli's heart leapt within her. They were nearly there!

They were forced to find another path up the slopes to the dark lake; the pony could not possibly climb the stairs. The way was long. The last golden rays of sunlight were flickering in the west and the first twinkle of stars could be seen when they reached the lakeshore. They made their way around the northernmost corner and across a slimy, shallow creek. The gunk clung to Gimli's boots and she tried to shake it off to no avail.

From there Gandalf pressed them hard until they reached the remains of a holly forest. The tangled old thickets were long bereft of life, but close to the cliff remained two towering holly trees, throwing dark shadows about their feet. *"Well, here we are at last!" said Gandalf. "Here the Elven-way from Hollin ended. Holly was the token of the people of that land, and they planted it here to mark the end of their domain; for the West-door was made chiefly for their use in their traffic with the Lords of Moria. Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different race, even between Dwarves and Elves."*

*"It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned,"* Gimli declared, bristling with indignation. She had heard many tales of how those ties had been severed and in none of them had her people been at fault.

*"I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves,"* Legolas added, looking down his nose at her.

Gimli blinked. In all their travels, with all the insults thrown, never once had the elf sounded so haughty or arrogant. He laughed and teased, winked and grinned, but this? This reaction disturbed her. Something was troubling the prince-ling, but what?

*"I have heard both," said Gandalf, giving both of them a hard look, "and I will not give judgement now. But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends, and to help me. I need you both. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand!"*

Gandalf turned to speak with the others, leaving Gimli and Legolas staring at one another. The elf looked as startled as she felt. Friends? Could they ever become anything remotely akin to friends? _'Unlikely,'_ Gimli thought. Still…the Elf looked thoughtful.

He offered no words of reconciliation, but glanced instead to the stone walls. "We should seek the doors," he said.

Gimli nodded and stepped up to them, tapping with the haft of her axe and listening for the change in tone that would signal a chamber or tunnel behind the stone wall. She knew that what appeared to be solid stone might hide a hidden door. There were many such in Erebor, and Glóin knew them all and had taught her well the art of locating them so their secrets might not be lost.

She moved down the wall, tapping and listening, then glanced back to see what the elf was doing. She started when she saw his lithe body pressed up against the stone, his ear to the wall and his eyes closed as if listening. _By Mahal!_ Could he communicate with the stone itself? She remembered his declaration in Hollin: *_"Only I hear the stones lament them…"_*She had heard the Elves could speak to the trees, and had never before this quest considered they might have an affinity with stone as well. She pushed such thoughts from her and continued searching.

Glancing up at the towering cliffs, Gimli felt humbled. Behind these walls lay Khazad-dum, the dwarven realm of old; but the gates she searched for had been made by not just Dwarves — Elves had worked alongside them, skilled in stonework and the shaping of gems. Perhaps there had been reason for a friendship between their peoples if they shared a love for creating things. And while Dwarves did not spend much time in the forests of the world, they had a great appreciation for nature's beauty, carving it into their pillars and walls.

*"Well, here we are and all ready," said Merry, "but where are the Doors? I can't see any sign of them."*

Gimli cast a frustrated look at the hobbit. *"Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut," Gimli called to him. "They are invisible, and their own masters cannot find them or open them if their secret is forgotten."*

She regretted saying that as soon as it left her lips, for the elf rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that Gimli could not hear. She cast him a disgruntled look, and opened her mouth to challenge him on it, but was cut off by Gandalf.

*"But this door was not made to be a secret known only to Dwarves," Gandalf said, turning to look at them. "Unless things are altogether changed, eyes that know what to look for may discover the signs."*

_'Riddles,'_ thought Gimli. _'Wizards always speak in those blasted riddles!' _But then Gandalf did something, muttering some words Gimli could not quite hear. Then he stepped back.

*"Look!" he said. "Can you see anything now?"*

Lo and behold, Gimli's eyes perceived in the moonlight upon the stone faint, silvery lines, slowly growing to reveal their design. An arch of elvish characters ran across the top and below glowed an anvil and a hammer, surmounted by a crown with seven stars; and beneath these were two trees, each bearing crescent moons and in the center, a single star with many rays.

Gimli gawked at what she was seeing. *"There are the emblems of Durin!"* she cried, her excitement mounting as she realized they had found the Doors.

*"And there is the Tree of the High Elves!"* Legolas gasped in wonder, his eyes shining. He glanced at her, and their eyes met. Unable to help herself, Gimli grinned at him, and to her surprise, Legolas grinned back.

**To Be Continued…**


	4. Chapter 3

**So sorry for the delay. My muse decided she did NOT want to expand on this story after all. I have tried and tried to coax more out of her, but in the end, I decided the story was best as it stood. Only an epilogue and an alternate ending after this and both are already written so they should be up soon. Thanks to everyone still reading and commenting. I appreciate it. :)

* * *

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**Chapter Three**

The doors of Moria were revealed to them, but opening them proved to be something of a challenge. Gimli had been surprised that it had all come down to a simple word: friend, spoken in elvish, of course. Neither had she missed the glance Gandalf had cast at her and the elf nor the twinkle in the wizard's eye as Gandalf explained the riddle.

Then everything went to the depths in a moment. One second all was peaceful and the next, Frodo was being dragged into the water, Sam was crying out and trying to save him, the water was boiling with what appeared to be snakes (Gimli hated snakes!) and then Gandalf was urging them into the gateway and up the stairs.

It all happened so quickly that Gimli found herself blinking in the pitch dark, the doors having been slammed shut by the snake things, followed by a great rumble that she recognized all too well: the sound of stone against stone. Sam was sobbing about the pony, and Gimli could hear several of the others calling out to each other, though she could see nothing in the pitch blackness. Then came the sound of Gandalf going back down the stairs to the door, but it did not open.

*"Well, well!" said the wizard. "The passage is blocked behind us now, and there is only one way out – on the other side of the mountains. I fear from the sounds that bounders have been piled up, and the trees uprooted and thrown across the gate."*

Gimli heard a slight gasp not far from her, and knew it to be the elf. She had placed where the rest of them stood by their voices and sounds of movement, but until he gasped, she had not heard any sound from Legolas. Odd creatures, really, the elves. In the darkness she could actually feel his grief at the death of the trees.

Gandalf continued, *"I am sorry; for the trees were beautiful, and had stood so long,"*

Frodo began to speak, but Gimli focused her senses on the elf. Something was off about him. His breathing came heavy and quick. As she stared, she thought she could just make out his faint glow. It was more than grief emanating from him, but she could not place what it was she sensed. It quite puzzled her and she was reminded of his reluctance to enter Moria. Was it true that elves could not bear to be so deep underground? That they had to be near the trees and the stars?

A deep voice broke into her thoughts. *"In the deep places of the world!" Boromir complained. "And thither we are going against my wish. Who will lead us now in this deadly dark?"*

Gimli glared in the Man's direction. She had never liked him, but now more than ever her dislike was plain. How could any person not be thrilled to just set foot in the halls of Durin?

The silence and darkness worried her, however. They should have found some trace of Balin and his people, but there was no light, nor smell of forges or other sounds of a working mine.

*"I will," Gandalf stepped forward, the tip of his staff beginning to glow with a faint light, revealing the dim faces of their company, most with worried and anxious expressions, especially among the hobbits. "And Gimli shall walk with me. Follow my staff!"*

Unquestioning, Gimli fell in with the wizard. For several hours they walked in silence, and Gimli spent those hours puzzling over what troubled the elf and bristling at Boromir's slight against the ancient home of her kin.

"Not all embrace the dark as do the Dwarves, Gimli," Gandalf whispered as they climbed a wide stairway. "All that this Company has endured in the past day alone would make most quail and shake, but these brave souls continue on. Do not despise Boromir for his dislike of the dark."

Gimli nodded, and continued up the steps in thoughtful contemplation. It was so easy for her to forget the hardships they had suffered once they entered the mines. This was the home of her forefathers, and she felt excitement to be walking here, though the silence troubled her deeply. But the others were still shaken by their encounter with the monster or monsters in the lake, and it had been unsettling to have the doors slammed behind them and blocked with wood and stone. If one were not used to deep places she supposed it might feel something like being sealed in a tomb. She vowed to herself to be more understanding of the differences in her companions. Not all could have the constitution of a dwarf, after all.

They took a brief rest at the top of the long stairway, and then continued on in single file. When she glanced back, she could just make out Aragorn at the back of their company, silent and thoughtful and looking uneasy — not a look she was used to seeing on that austere Man. Something about the scenario niggled at her mind. Aragorn brought up the rear from time to time, but usually he was accompanied by…

_Legolas. _

The elf walked in the middle of the file and glanced about nervously, his eyes bright in the darkness. She could again see the slight glow emanating from his skin, only this time the reality of what she was seeing became clear. By Mahal! She had noted the elf stood out in the dark early into their quest, but had not realized he actually _**glowed**__**! **_ During their journey, she had noticed it and had assumed his pale skin and hair reflected the moon and starlight. But here in the dark of Khazad-dum, she could clearly see the faint light he gave off and knew that her assumption had been incorrect. The elf actually emitted a soft light of his own. How curious! Her fingers reached into her pocket to touch the arrowhead she had placed there. There was so much about elves she did not understand.

"Gimli?" Gandalf's voice drew her attention back to the task at hand. Gandalf sought her help in choosing the best path through the mines, but having never been here before, she was of little aid to him, though she did her best. Khazad-dum exceeded all her expectations and they had been great. She felt awe beyond her comprehension as she stared about them on the journey. And she worried over Balin's fate. No, she was not of much help; she suspected the wizard sought only to occupy her enough to prevent any arguments between her and the elf. Perhaps Gandalf had noticed her staring at the glowing elf and was simply waiting for her to make a barbed comment.

Oddly, she felt no desire to argue or bicker. She felt a strange concern and uneasiness within her when it came to Legolas. Something was not right with him. He remained in the midst of their companions, almost constantly humming or singing to himself, though his voice was so low Gimli could not make out the words. Only when Aragorn sought to assure the hobbits of Gandalf's worthiness as a guide through such a place and implored them not to fear that she realized what it was that she sensed in the elf.

Legolas was afraid.

—

The elf's fear had proven to be justified, Gimli thought as she walked down a silvery path between the trees of Lothlórien. Legolas had sensed what perhaps Gandalf had known: that evil lay sleeping deep in the mines, waiting for someone foolish enough to venture within the darkened halls. How her heart ached as she remembered the glories of Khazad-dum lost to such darkness. The discovery of Balin's tomb had brought a grief so great she had felt compelled to hide her face, lest the others see her tears. Dwarf-men did not shed tears, but she could not have stopped them from falling if she had wished. Balin had been more than kin; he had been a good friend, nearly a brother to her.

Even now Gimli might be in that small room if not for Legolas. They had all fought valiantly, but when the time had come to flee, Gimli had found herself paralyzed, staring at Balin's tomb and not able to bring herself to leave him. A strong hand had siezed hers and dragged her from the room. He had not let go in their flight, not until Gandalf had called for her to walk ahead with him. The elf had released her then, but Gimli had felt a chill tightening her chest as that warm grip was withdrawn.

Gimli's steps faltered to a halt and she leaned back against one of the magnificent mallorn trees, shining silver in the moonlight. Oh, how the thought of their final flight through Moria brought such remorse and grief to her heart! Evil had been waiting for them as they ran for the bridge of Khazad-dum. If only she had known what her people had awakened, she might have spoken much earlier in their journey and urged Gandalf to take the Gap of Rohan. Her silence and secret longing to see the deep places of the dwarves had removed her voice and helped to lead them there. She was not foolish enough to take the blame for Gandalf's death onto herself alone, but if she had spoken, perhaps Tharkûn might have reconsidered their path.

She would never know now. It was too late. Tharkûn, the grey wizard, was dead.

Gimli sank to the ground, her back slipping against the trunk of the great tree until she sat at its base. She pulled her knees up and leaned her head against them as the grief washed over her in waves. She knew there was most likely an elven escort somewhere in the trees overhead, watching her; the Elves of Lothlórien had proven their distrust of the dwarves when they had insisted she be blindfolded in order to enter the wood, but she no longer cared who knew of her grief. She let the tears fall.

A light thud sounded beside her, but Gimli did not look up. She did not care what the elves of this realm thought of her. Even now the sound of lament rang through the trees. They could grieve in song if they wished. For once, she would grieve in the manner most fit for her.

"Gimli."

She knew that light voice. Once it might have irritated her that he would come at such a time, but not now. His soft whisper was close enough that his breath stirred a few loose strands of her hair. Then a hand settled on her opposite shoulder, his arm urging her closer to the warm body beside her. She found herself tucked up against his shoulder and for some reason did not care that he knew that she cried. She wept against him, letting her grief soak into his tunic, even as Legolas's tears fell, adding to those on her cheeks.

When their tears were spent, they sat side by side, their backs to the tree. They did not speak of what had just passed, but instead shared memories from their lives. Gimli could not say when it had happened; perhaps it had been outside the Gates of Moria when Gandalf had beseeched them to be friends, or maybe it had begun even earlier with all the teasing and winking and playful banter exchanged between them. When she looked at Legolas now, she no longer saw just the elf: he had become dear to her, a friend.

"And then Mithrandir reached out and knocked me on the head with his staff!" Legolas laughed. "I will not say I did not deserve it! My father would agree I did indeed, and I learned never to touch a wizard's bag of pipeweed."

"You're a strange creature," Gimli said, her lips twitching with amusement.

"But you like me anyway." Legolas grinned at her and winked. Before she could say another word, he had leapt to his feet and up into the trees, his silvery laughter echoing back. Gimli stood and chuckling to herself, made her way back to the rest of her companions. Yes, she liked him anyway.

—

How long they stayed in Lothlórien, Gimli was uncertain. The trees blocked the stars and even the moon from sight, filtering the evening lights to a silvery glow on the forest floor. She was not overly interested in knowing how much time had passed since their arrival. They needed the rest. Gimli found herself most days trailing the blasted elf through the trees, listening to him talk. By Mahal, had she ever thought of Legolas as shy? Or quiet?

She snorted to herself as she walked, for once alone, down a golden path lit by the afternoon sun. The light was reminiscent of the Lady's hair, all sparkly and gold with a hint of silver. Never had Gimli seen such beauty as when she looked upon the Lady of the Light. Like all her kindred, she was drawn to beauty, and she had marveled like a fool when confronted by the elf-woman. Perhaps that had saved her from having her secrets revealed. While Galadriel had questioned and tempted in her mind, the lady did not seem to have discovered Gimli was not what she seemed. Or perhaps the Lady simply had no wish to betray her secret so long as Gimli proved faithful to the task, refusing the lure of the Ring.

With a piece of toweling draped over one arm and her pack hanging over her shoulder, Gimli headed to a secluded pool to bathe. Aragorn had announced they would set out once more on their Quest come morning, and Gimli would take the opportunity to indulge herself by bathing in one of the many hot springs found in the wood before having to once again settle for cold water baths as they continued their journey south. She hoped to find the spring closest to where the Fellowship camped to be unoccupied.

A slight splash from ahead warned her that the pool she had planned to use was probably in use. She smirked to herself and drew closer, unable to squelch her curiosity as to who was bathing in the pool. The lack of chatter could only mean it was not the hobbits. The Men were not as talkative when bathing; she had caught them at it several times. They washed and redressed quickly, wasting no time in conversation or play. Gimli had never come upon Legolas, however, though he obviously had bathed during their time in the Golden wood. The elf seemed to take cleanliness a bit too seriously to Gimli's mind. At home, perhaps, such was appreciated, but in the wilds? She stifled a snort.

Being as quiet as she could manage, she paused behind a large tree and peered cautiously around it. The pool looked deserted. Steam rose from its surface in the cool air. She itched to remove her restrictive garments and sink into the warm water. She was about to step out from behind the tree when something surged up from under the surface. Startled, Gimli dropped her towel, and then could only gape at the sight.

The elf stood in the pool up to his waist, water streaming from his hair and down his body, the droplets glistening on his eyelashes and face before dripping down to trail over the pale, hairless expanse of his chest. Like finely chiseled marble, he stood there with his head thrown back and arms raised to the westering sun. '_Exquisite!'_ Gimli wished she could immortalize the moment in stone, so beautiful he was.

She realized she had stepped from behind the tree to stare about the time Legolas opened his eyes and met her appreciative gaze. Heat flushed her cheeks with warmth, and she turned away, horrified to have been caught gawking. She was a daughter of Mahal! Not some slinking, giggling elf-maid!

"Forgive me," she grumbled. "I didn't realize anyone was here." She stooped to retrieve her towel and kept her back turned to the naked elf. He did not answer her, but she heard the sound of him moving to the shore and resisted the impulse to glance over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the full view. Her heart pounded as she waited for some scathing remark, an embarrassed plea for her to leave or even some jest, but the only sound that greeted her was the sound of him hastily dressing…then silence.

She waited, unsure as to whether he had fled and equally uncertain as to how her blunder would affect their new friendship. Gandalf had made it clear that elves held a certain modicum of modesty as did dwarves when it came to certain personal issues. She sincerely hoped she had not inadvertently returned them to the awkwardness that had previously surrounded them on their journey.

Several minutes passed, and then something moved behind her. She started to turn, then froze as the smell of summer and beeches drifted to her. Whatever his response, she would soon find out. She was surprised when instead of lashing out (definitely what she would have done had circumstances been reversed), he raised a hand to her shoulder.

"If you wish it, I will stand guard so that you might bathe in peace, Gimli. You have my word that I will not disturb your privacy."

The words were softly spoken with such genuineness to them, Gimli had to blink and swallow. He was not going to say a word about her lack of decorum, anymore than he had commented on her tears that first night in Lothlórien. The gesture touched her, but could she trust him to watch the path so she could bathe? If he wished to feign all was well in an effort to allow himself turnabout of embarrassment, her secret would be revealed. That she could not risk, and yet, if someone else stumbled upon her as she had done while he bathed, would she not also be found out? Having Legolas watch for her would be ideal but only if she could trust him.

His head bent to rest beside hers, and she became aware then of how closely he stood behind her. His breath brushed her cheek and ear. "You can trust me," he whispered.

"Perhaps," she murmured, still uncertain.

Both of his hands came up to rest on either of her shoulders, his head dipping further until his lips nearly touched the sensitive skin of her ear. "You can trust me," he whispered again, then continued in hardly more than a soft breath, "I know what you are."

Gimli's breath stilled in her chest as a chill ran down her spine. It felt as if a stone had been dropped on her chest. She was found out! He knew! Somehow he knew. Curse it all! Curse it to the deepest pits of Mordor!

His hands tightened slightly on her shoulders as he straightened. "I have heard it said that the dwarves highly prize their women, never letting them walk alone above the tunnels and halls of their kin. Is this true?"

"I am Glóin's son," she returned, shocked to hear the wobble in her voice.

He ignored her. "I believe I have heard that dwarves value their women over gems and even mithril. Daughters are protected at all costs."

"I am Glóin's son!"

He sighed and leaned forward, dipping his head to her ear once more. "Elves also place great value on their women. From them comes new life. They are to be respected and honored…and protected."

She stiffened at the implication in his words. "I need no protection!" she growled. "I am Glóin's son!"

His hands fell away. "Yes, I know, son of Glóin. I have watched you fight valiantly. You surprised me. At first, I was greatly amused by your presence. How well you present yourself. But you have more than proved your worth. You have my highest regard and my everlasting friendship if you will accept it." Then the world tipped as his lips pressed to her temple. "I will watch the path. Go and bathe."

He stepped around her and walked towards the path. Gimli watched him go, knowing she was trembling from all that he had said and done. "I am Glóin's son!" she called to his back.

His steps halted as his head turned slowly around and he looked at her over his shoulder. "If ever I had any doubts, son of Glóin, they dissipated the moment I caught you watching me bathe." Then he winked, his lips quirking into a smug grin.

Face burning, Gimli turned to the spring, but she did as bid and bathed in the warm waters. Flashes of doubt assailed her, but not once did she feel eyes upon her. Legolas kept to his word; she could trust him. When she was done, she returned to their camp alongside the elf. Nothing was said of what had passed between them that day.

They resumed their journey by boat the next day, and Gimli smiled to see she and Legolas were to share one of the small craft. As the water carried them from the Golden Wood down towards the Anduin, they spoke of the journey to come, speculating on what other dangers they might encounter or bickering back and forth in playful banter, drawing curious glances from the hobbits and the Men.

On their first night camping alongside the Anduin, it was Pippin who finally gave voice to what the others were wondering. "Are you friends now then?" the hobbit asked, glancing between the two of them. Legolas sat in the low branches of a tree, singing softly to himself, one foot dangling down in Gimli's face where she sat beneath him at the tree's base sharpening her axe.

"A dwarf and an elf be friends?" Gimli swatted the annoying foot away, then looked up at her ever present companion with a grin. "Whoever heard of such a thing!" Legolas smirked as he gazed back with a wink.

Pippin looked between the two of them, his brows drawing together in a frown, then his eyes widened and his face reddened. "Never mind," he mumbled before scurrying back to the other hobbits.

Gimli looked up at her elven friend and grinned at his horrified expression. Served him right, giving her all those winks and smiles. She winked up at him, then continued sharpening her blade. Let the hobbits whisper and wonder, she thought. She knew the truth, and that was she had found a most unusual but loyal friend.

**To Be Continued…

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Thanks for reading! Please review?**


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Glóin was unsure how to receive his 'son' upon her return from the War. Oh, he was proud of her, for certain. She had proved herself most valiantly and he had heard many tales of her deeds. But something had changed. She was still Gimli, for the most part, but…

His eyes strayed to the elf seated beside her in the great hall. Glóin had found it more than a little disconcerting when Gimli had returned with the elf alongside her but had welcomed Thranduil's son as graciously as he could. It would not be said the Dwarves had no hospitality! He watched the two closely and found himself shaking his head at the odd sort of friendship that had grown between them. He would never have thought this possible while in Rivendell. Even now he would not have believed it if he were not seeing it with his own eyes.

The elf's eyes twinkled merrily at some jest Gimli made, and he grinned at her. Glóin's beard bristled when the grin was followed by a quick wink from the elf. How his fingers itched for the haft of his axe! But he did not wear one while in the Mountain. His father's heart protested to the strange behavior of the elf, but he had given up the right long ago to show such protectiveness.

Gimli threw her head back with a loud guffaw at something Thranduil's son said, then pounded him on the back, drawing a frown and a biting remark from the elf. Glóin relaxed a bit. Perhaps the elf was just a bit silly. After all, were not wood-elves merry and a bit childish at times? His reaction was only based on his own knowledge of Gimli's secret. He would not respond so if Gimli's gender were other than what it was, and the elf could not possibly know.

Yet as Glóin watched during the rest of the welcome feast; the odd friendship continued to trouble him. There were looks shared between the two that nearly had him rising to his feet with a protest, only to bite his tongue as he reminded himself he overreacted. It was simply the bond formed from fighting back to back over long months that he saw, nothing more.

Though he worked to convince himself of this, when Gimli rose to lead Legolas to the guest chambers, Glóin found himself following at a distance. The easy camaraderie between the elf and Gimli continued as they walked, but some niggling doubt kept Glóin hiding in the darkened corridors as he shadowed his 'son' and her companion.

Their steps halted, and Gimli gestured to a door. "This is the chamber assigned to you, Legolas, but if you would rather, I can show you back to the entrance. There are many trees in which you might rather find refuge for the night."

It surprised Glóin that Gimli would make such an offer. She loved the Mountain and boasted greatly of the welcome any visitor would find in their halls. Would the elf would shun their hospitality?

"I know how you love those silly trees," she continued with a shrug, and to Glóin's astonishment, appeared uncomfortable. She had not acted this way with the elf before, glancing down at her toes and not meeting his gaze. "It would not offend me if you preferred to sleep under the stars," she murmured.

"Dear Gimli." A slow smile turned the elf's lips, and he stepped closer. Glóin's eyes narrowed on him. "One might think you worry for me."

"Bah!" she grumbled, but did not look up.

"You honor me, _**son**_of Glóin, but I shall be fine sleeping here." Legolas's smile faded. "Your halls are not like those of Moria, Gimli; the dark will not assail me, for there is no evil to trouble me here."

Glóin could only stare. Had he truly heard the slight inflection in the elf's voice when he had said the word 'son'? Was it possible that the elf _**knew**_? His eyes nearly bugged from his head as the elf tipped Gimli's chin up with one finger in her beard and placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Sleep well, _elvellon_," he whispered, then turned and slipped through the door to the chamber.

"Good night, Legolas," Gimli whispered. She stood there with a small smile that had Glóin's beard bristling and his hair standing on end. He marched out of the shadows, ignoring her stunned expression at his sudden appearance, and grabbed her by the arm.

"Da!" Her eyes were wide. "I did not know you were there."

He harrumphed. "Obviously." He marched her towards her chambers, planning a new series of locks to install on her door.

"But Da! It's not what you think!"

He harrumphed again, and walked faster.

**The End**

**NOTE: I will be posting an alternate ending to chapter 3 so this is not quite finished. ;) **

**Thank you for reading. Please review?**


	6. Alternate Ending

**This is the alternate ending to chapter 3….the first few paragraphs are the same word for word, then there is a definite twist. ;P  
**

**Alternate Ending**

How long they stayed in Lothlórien, Gimli was uncertain. The trees blocked the stars and even the moon from sight, filtering the evening lights to a silvery glow on the forest floor. She was not overly interested in knowing how much time had passed since their arrival. They needed the rest. Gimli found herself most days trailing the blasted elf through the trees, listening to him talk. By Mahal, had she ever thought of Legolas as shy? Or quiet?

She snorted to herself as she walked, for once alone, down a golden path lit by the afternoon sun. The light was reminiscent of the Lady's hair, all sparkly and gold with a hint of silver. Never had Gimli seen such beauty as when she looked upon the Lady of the Light. Like all her kindred, she was drawn to beauty, and she had marveled like a fool when confronted by the elf-woman. Perhaps that had saved her from having her secrets revealed. While Galadriel had questioned and tempted in her mind, the lady did not seem to have discovered Gimli was not what she seemed. Or perhaps the Lady simply had no wish to betray her secret so long as Gimli proved faithful to the task, refusing the lure of the Ring.

With a piece of toweling draped over one arm and her pack hanging over her shoulder, Gimli headed to a secluded pool to bathe. Aragorn had announced they would set out once more on their Quest come morning, and Gimli would take the opportunity to indulge herself by bathing in one of the many hot springs found in the wood before having to once again settle for cold water baths as they continued their journey south. She hoped to find the spring closest to where the Fellowship camped to be unoccupied.

A slight splash from ahead warned her that the pool she had planned to use was probably in use. She smirked to herself and drew closer, unable to squelch her curiosity as to who was bathing in the pool. The lack of chatter could only mean it was not the hobbits. The Men were not as talkative when bathing; she had caught them at it several times. They washed and redressed quickly, wasting no time in conversation or play. Gimli had never come upon Legolas, however, though he obviously had bathed during their time in the Golden wood. The elf seemed to take cleanliness a bit too seriously to Gimli's mind. At home, perhaps, such was appreciated, but in the wilds? She stifled a snort.

Being as quiet as she could manage, she paused behind a large tree and peered cautiously around it. The pool looked deserted. Steam rose from its surface in the cool air. She itched to remove her restrictive garments and sink into the warm water. She was about to step out from behind the tree when something surged up from under the surface. Startled, Gimli dropped her towel, and then could only gape at the sight.

She blinked, closed her eyes tightly then looked again, but no, it had not been a trick of the light; she indeed was seeing what she thought she was seeing.

Legolas stood in the pool up to the waist, water streaming from golden hair and over a supple body, the droplets glistening on eyelashes before dripping down to trail over the pale, hairless expanse of chest then down over the rounded breasts of a _**woman?**_

Gimli gaped in disbelief. Could it be true? Could she not be the only one traveling in disguise? Her gaze slipped from the elf-woman bathing to the pile of clothing left on a nearby rock. Sure enough, Gimli caught sight of a length of binding very similar to what she used to bind her own breasts and increase her bulk in order to hide her gender.

_Mahal's Hammer and Tongs! _

She realized she had stepped from behind the tree to stare right about the time Legolas opened her eyes and met Gimli's shocked gaze. Heat flushed Legolas's cheeks with warmth, and Gimli turned away, horrified to have been caught gawking. She was a daughter of Mahal! Not some nosey, giggling elf-maid!

"Forgive me. I didn't realize anyone was here," she grumbled, stooping to retrieve her towel and keeping her back turned to the naked elf. Legoals did not answer her, but she heard the sound of the elf moving to the shore and resisted the impulse to glance over her shoulder to get the full view, curious about the body of the other woman. She peeked over her shoulder then jerked back around, having caught just enough of a glimpse to take in long, slender limbs and gentle curves. The elf was beautiful!

Her heart pounded as she waited for some scathing remark, an embarrassed plea for her to leave or even some jest, but the only sound that greeted her was the sound of Legolas hastily dressing…then silence.

She waited, uncertain what to do. For all Legolas knew, one of the male members of their group had just discovered a secret that the elf had endeavored to keep unknown. And not just any male, but the one who had made no effort to befriend her. Suddenly Gimli felt guilty. Here all this time she had held nothing but animosity for the one person who would understand her plight better than any other. Gandalf's plea for them to be friends returned to her mind and now she thought she understood much of the wizard's peacemaking efforts. He had known, and had tried to help them become friends.

They had managed that on their own, but that had been as two males sharing their grief. How would this knowledge affect the fragile new friendship they had formed? She certainly understood Gandalf's comment about elven modesty and feared the return of the awkwardness that had previously surrounded them on their journey. Would Legolas ever speak to her again? Should she be the one to make the first move? Should she share her own secret? Her mind screamed against it after having Glóin instill such caution in her, but had this not changed everything?

Several minutes passed, and then something moved behind her. She started to turn, then froze as the smell of summer and beeches drifted to her. Whatever Legolas's response, Gimli would soon find out. She was surprised when instead of lashing out (definitely what she would have done had circumstances been reversed), Legolas raised a hand to Gimli's shoulder.

"If you wish it, I will stand guard so that you might bathe in peace, Gimli. You have my word I will not disturb your privacy."

The words were softly spoken with such genuineness to them, Gimli had to blink and swallow. Legolas was not going to say a word about her lack of decorum, anymore than she had commented on Gimli's tears that first night in Lothlórien. The gesture touched her, and she wondered again if she should reveal her own identity.

"You can trust me," Legolas whispered, a small smile gracing her lips.

"Perhaps," Gimli murmured, still uncertain as to what she should do. She could continue the charade…or she could deepen this odd friendship.

Both of Legolas's hands came up to rest on either of her shoulders, turning Gimli so the elf could look her full in the face. "You can trust me," she whispered again, then continued in hardly more than a soft breath, "I know what you are."

Gimli's breath stilled in her chest as a chill ran down her spine. Legolas knew! Somehow she knew. And suddenly, so many things made so much more sense: The elf's desire to be alone in Rivendell, the secret smiles and winks… She bit back a grin, forcing a frown. She would enjoy letting this game play out.

Legolas's hands tightened slightly on her shoulders. "I have heard it said that Dwarves highly prize their women, never letting them walk alone above the tunnels and halls of their kin. Is this true?"

"I am Glóin's son," Gimli returned, her voice firm and sure as she looked the elf dead in the eye.

The elf ignored her. "I believe I have heard Dwarves value their women over gems and even mithril. Daughters are protected at all costs."

"Even so, I am Glóin's son." It took much effort to hold back a chuckle at the elf's reaction to her words.

Legolas sighed, dropping her hands from Gimli's shoulders. "Elves also place great value on their women, for from them comes new life. But they can be overbearing, demanding, insisting on certain…behavior. Women are to be respected and honored…and protected." One of Legolas's brows lifted.

Gimli snorted. "_**I**_ need no protection. I am Glóin's son!"

This time the elf looked away, and Gimli wondered if she had taken the game too far. She had heard the silent plea in the elf's voice: understanding and a need to unite in their odd yet similar circumstances. "Yes, I know, son of Glóin. I have watched you fight valiantly. You surprised me. At first, I was greatly amused by your presence. How well you present yourself! You have more than proved your worth and have my highest regard and my everlasting friendship if you will accept it."

A slow smile spread across Gimli's face and she tipped her head. "I do indeed, Thranduil's _**son**_. We women should stick together, should we not?" She winked, then turned back to the pool, confident her new friend would guard her against being found out.

A bright laugh echoed behind her as she stepped to the pool and began undressing for the first time with no fear that any should discover her as she bathed. When she had finished, she dressed in peace and then returned to the others alongside the elf. Nothing was said of what had passed between them that day, only knowing glances, which held a promise of future discussions about their situations.

They resumed their journey by boat the next day, and Gimli smiled to see she and Legolas were to share one of the small craft. As the water carried them from the Golden Wood down towards the Anduin, they spoke of the journey to come, speculating on what other dangers they might encounter or bickering back and forth in playful banter, drawing curious glances from the hobbits and the Men.

On their first night camping alongside the Anduin, it was Pippin who finally gave voice to what the others were wondering. "Are you friends now then?" the hobbit asked, glancing between the two of them. Legolas sat in the low branches of a tree, singing softly to herself, one foot dangling down in Gimli's face where she sat beneath the elf at the tree's base sharpening her axe.

"A dwarf and an elf be friends?" Gimli swatted the annoying foot away, then looked up at her ever present companion with a grin. "Whoever heard of such a thing!"

Legolas snorted, then tossed down a small vial. "This will tame the frizz."

"Frizz?" Pippin asked, glancing between the two of them.

"For my beard," Gimli answered. "The elf's hair never frizzes and apparently this plant extract is the secret." She grinned up at the elf.

Pippin blinked, his brows drawing together in a frown, then he backed away from the two of them, an odd look on his face. "Never mind," he mumbled.

Gimli looked up at her elven friend and they both grinned at each other. Let the hobbits whisper and wonder, she thought. She knew the truth, and that was she had found a most unusual but loyal friend.

**The End**


End file.
